Pym, Volume #1
Posted by Justine Tal Goldberg in 
For the inaugural month of WBN’s online book club, we’re reading Mat Johnson’s Pym. If you’re a book club member, you already know that. If you’re not yet a book club member and would like to be, it’s not too late to jump on the bandwagon. Simply use the comments section below to express interest, and either dive into Pym now or join us for next month’s pick (TBD).
Here’s a quick reminder of January’s reading schedule:
Jan. 1-7: Pym Volume I
Jan. 8-14: Pym Volume II
Jan. 15-21: Pym Volume III
Jan. 22-28: Pym Volume IV
A discussion of each volume penned by yours truly will appear right here on WBN’s blog within days of that volume’s completion. Please be sure to subscribe to WBN’s blog via email (in the sidebar to the right) or RSS so that you’re alerted to posts when they publish.
As riveting as these logistics are, what do you say we get down to business? Volume I, here we come.
Academia as Slavery
Academia plays a central role here—in initial setting, yes, but also in concept and character. The institution is presented as a corrupt, languishing system which favors politics over passion, affect over effect. As Chris explains to Mosaic Johnson when he expresses interest in the school’s Diversity Committee:
“The Diversity Committee has one primary purpose: so that the school can say it has a diversity committee. They need that for when students get upset about race issues or general ethnic stuff. It allows the faculty and administration to point to it and go, ‘ Everything’s going to be okay, we have formed a committee.’ People find that very relaxing. It’s sort of like, if you had a fire, and instead of putting it out, you formed a fire committee.” (18)
In this way, is Johnson (the author, not the character) likening academia to slavery?
In both institutions, a group of people are made utterly ineffective. Their voices are silenced. Their roles, preordained. Needless to say, the stakes are different. What’s professional misery when compared to existential misery? Still, given Chris’s interest in slave narratives; the book’s exploration of racial dynamics largely through Edgar Allan Poe’s The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket; and Chris’s observation of the professor who begged for his job back and got it, “It is more valuable to a master to have a morally broken slave than to have a confident one” (12), the parallel is difficult to ignore.
Literature as Fetish
“…we got to my house and saw all my books sitting there, on the front porch. Not in boxes, just stacked there. Hundreds of them. My books, my treasure. Sitting in the rain, bloated with a week’s worth of water and dirt and mold. Pages bursting open like they were screaming … Tens of thousands of dollars, years of collecting. Destroyed. Irreplaceable. Gifts, inscriptions, ruined. I picked one up, threw it down, started screaming. Jumping.” (15-16, emphasis mine)
This is one of my favorite passages in the book thus far. Chris’s reaction to the decimation of his books is on par with grief for a loved one lost. He, in essence, falls to his knees and bellows “Why?” His description of the carnage is anthropomorphic to the point of discomfort (see emphasis above). It’s a massacre. The university—and academia (ahem, ahem)—has murdered his books and, in so doing, murdered a part of him.
So here’s the question: Which part of Chris has died, and are we meant to mourn that loss or rejoice in his newfound freedom?
After all, the destruction of his books makes him hungry for a new acquisition, The True and Interesting Narrative of Dirk Peters, which sends him on an adventure he wouldn’t have otherwise had. Up to this moment, he’s worshipped books as the vehicle of his intellectual introversion—“My office was a narrow A-framed cathedral with a matching window. A shrine to the books that lined the walls and my own solitude” (9)—and has now lost his faith, at least as it was in its previous form. His new faith is literary, for sure, but freer, more expansive, and perhaps healthier (i.e. un-fetishized). His pursuit of Dirk Peters and Poe’s Pym requires an exploration of the world, rather than a shrinking from it. We learn that “The Jaynes family was stricken with overactive intellectualism” (70), so has Chris been cured of his disease? Has he succeeded in shedding his academic chains?
Emotional Truth
A final thought to segue into Volume II: Chris deems Poe’s Pym “a book that at points makes no sense, gets wrong both history and science, and yet stumbles into an emotional truth greater than both” (22). Will Johnson’s Pym take the same form, or will he seek to revise Poe’s authorial missteps in service of a more technically successful piece of literature? I don’t know, but I can’t wait to find out.
Pym is so incredibly rich, I wish I could address everything. Of course, I can’t, but you can. In your comments, feel free to respond to the questions I’ve posed above, or raise new talking points and questions for us to toss around.
And don’t forget to tick the “Notify me of followup comments via e-mail” box below to stay engaged with the conversation. On to Volume II!
WriteByNight owner Justine Tal Goldberg is an award-winning writer and editor of both fiction and nonfiction. Her short stories have appeared in Anomalous Press, Whiskey Island, Fringe Magazine, and other publications. Her journalistic work has appeared in Publishing Perspectives, Austin Monthly and the Texas Observer, among others. She holds an M.F.A. in creative writing from Emerson College.
17 Comments to “Pym, Volume #1”
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Leah Kaminsky says:
Wow, so many great questions here, and such thought-provoking discussion. I agree with everything you wrote, and am having trouble responding in a way that isn’t just stating the obvious or repeating what you’ve said. I’ve also finished the book (which I’ll try not to do next time), so my response to some of these larger questions revolves around issues I’d love to discuss deeply, but can’t do so without giving anything away. This is particularly true for your questions around emotional truth, which I really struggled with in the end. I’d love to circle back to this in the final section.
That said, I do think Chris likens academia to slavery. His religious worship of books and knowledge reinforces the power of the cultural institutions that keep us enslaved in our heavily rationalist culture. This is similar to the supposedly moral arguments funneled through the government and church to justify and maintain more traditional forms of slavery. Likewise, both the slaves and the masters of this knowledge are enslaved, as they must operate within a strict hierarchical system that binds them both to cultural norms. This is apparent when the school president acknowledges that Chris has gotten a tough break but doesn’t do much about it. (Also, he’s a jerk).
I think initially it does feel to us like Chris is freeing himself. It was exciting to me to see him pursue a subject he was passionate about, to travel between characters often absent from academia, and to say, “Yep, I really care about money. Maybe it can even allow me to study what I’d like.”
But I think we’re all always shackled in some way. There are always power systems and responsibilities. Some handcuffs are just nicer than others.
Look at me! Guess I did have something to contribute. What do you think about all of this?
Justine Tal Goldberg says:
Thanks for the feedback on the post, Leah. Next time around, I’ll do my best to tone down my discussion so there’s more room for commentary.
Let’s circle back to emotional truth, for sure.
“But I think we’re all always shackled in some way … Some handcuffs are just nicer than others.” Well said! We might do well to pick up this conversation in Volume II because I have this sense that when Chris arrives in Antarctica, he’s kind of not shackled–not even by reality–and I wonder if this unshackling will continue until … what? I dunno.
If what you say is true (and I tend to think it is), is it possible that Johnson intends to give us a glimpse into ultimate freedom in order to make the point that it is, when all is said and done, out of our reach?
Or is fiction ultimate freedom? Geez.
Justine Tal Goldberg says:
So I just finished Volume II and, considering the fact that Chris and his crew have been sold into slavery, now think it’s funny that I was all, “I wonder if this unshackling will continue.” Funny and wrong. This book is crazy! I’m loving it.
(Yes, I’m replying to my own comment. Whatever.)
Leah Kaminsky says:
Yeah, this is part of the reason why I was having trouble responding. :)
Justine Tal Goldberg says:
I totally get it.
I’m usually pretty good at predicting a plot’s potential twists and turns. Not so in this case. A surprise at every turn. Well done, Mat Johnson. Well done.
Leah Kaminsky says:
Well, to be fair to yourself, I think your reaction parallels Chris’. It felt to him like he was finding this new path towards freedom, which is part of what makes me wonder, do any such paths exist in a pure form? Your empathy let you skip down those paths with him. And I’m sure it was a fun ride while it lasted!
Jenna says:
I found that Johnson makes a point of addressing “identity” consistently throughout the novel–so much so that I think it’s the central theme. (I too couldn’t bring myself to stop reading; I already finished the book.) In Volume 1, Chris has part of his identity–the academic aspect–taken away from him when he doesn’t make tenure and his personal collection of rare books is demolished. So, part of Chris’s identity has “died,” but I think we’re meant to see it as a good thing, initially. He no longer has to work in a sphere where he’s expected to fill a racist niche. However, when Chris receives the remains of Dirk Peters, he latches onto Peters’s identity. Chris states “the man himself [Dirk Peters], in my possession. It was almost as great an honor as the book. And I made a vow to myself right then to redeem him.” Peters becomes Chris’s possession, much like a rare book, and it’s representative of his new identity as a sort of reinvention of Dirk Peters.
Racial and ethnic identity is also huge, especially when it comes to relating to art and literature. Chris’s replacement Mosaic Johnson tells Chris that he will represent himself as the “strong black man on campus” as a hip-hop theorist and implies that Chris’s fascination with Poe is inconsistent with representing himself as a black professor. Furthermore, the school president isn’t happy that Chris isn’t representing his race in the subject matter he teaches. Johnson also emphasizes the contrast between the attitude towards “blackness” in academia and in Mahalia Mathis’s Native American Ancestry group. The white bar patrons “love the black power fist” in a superficial way, whereas most of Mathis’s group gets royalty pissed off when they find out they have a little to no Native American ancestry and are almost 100% African-American. Everyone Chris encounters seems either ambivalent or passionate in their ideas of what it means to be black.
All in all, there’s so much in this book to discuss! Good pick Justine.
Justine Tal Goldberg says:
Huh. I really hadn’t thought about Chris latching onto Peters’s identity, but now that you mention it, I totally see it. I wonder, too, if there’s a sort of identity tug-of-war at play for Chris: Does he identify with Peters or Pym, the slave or the master, black or white?
And/or he could be identifying with Poe as author, although maybe the more appropriate parallel is Poe : Mat Johnson.
Pym, Volume #2 « « WriteByNight │ write better, right now │ writing center and writers service in Austin, Texas WriteByNight │ write better, right now │ writing center and writers service in Austin, Texas says:
[...] Volume II of Mat Johnson’s Pym. I got some valuable feedback from a few of you fine folks that last week’s post was a little aggressive discussion-wise, so I’m going to do my best this time around to do less [...]
Laura Roberts says:
As a book lover, I was horrified by the image of all those books sitting out in the rain. I remember the first time I entered a professor’s office, to be literally surrounded by books on every available surface, and thinking “This is the greatest!” You’d think a university would have a little more respect for books, but then again, some janitor probably moved the books, as Chris suggests, and would this guy give a damn about books, or would he be just another slave obeying his master?
I think it’s funny that there’s even a discussion about whether the academia-as-slavery theme was intended by the author. Academia IS slavery here–especially if you’re on a tenure track. And when you don’t get tenure, is that better or worse than being permanently enslaved after kowtowing to all their rules and regs? To be honest, I’d never considered the possibility of a professor who *wouldn’t* get tenure; in real life, it seems like once you’re on the track, you’re going to get it, unless you do something really egregious–something along the lines of raping students and eating their flesh in a cannibalistic ritual. Chris hasn’t done anything particularly egregious, by that definition, but he *has* blatantly spit in their faces by refusing to join the “diversity” committee, and that’s the whole problem. He thinks it’d be Uncle Tom behavior to join a committee that does nothing but appease white people, yet the university views this simple act as aggressive, almost Malcolm X behavior. So it’s interesting that he seems kind of unaware that his actions have been deemed unten(ure)able–he is kicking himself out of the university, by their measure. He has been doing this all along, lecturing to empty rooms, etc., being an “uppity black man” (in their view). I think it’s very interesting that his replacement is eager to be on the committee, because he thinks he will change the system from within. How many times has that happened in America? Ask Dr. King. And then ask all the racist assholes who posted “Happy N— Day” on MLK Day. (See here if you want to see how far America still has to go on the race issue: http://www.buzzfeed.com/mjs538/the-40-absolutely-worst-people-in-america)
Also, what about that “Jew listening to Wagner” observation he has about the dean?
Justine Tal Goldberg says:
Re: “In real life, it seems like once you’re on the track, you’re going to get it, unless you do something really egregious.” Wow, I have such a different feeling about this. The brutality of academia–it’s volatile politics and almost assured disappointments–is the main reason I decided not to become a professor. You can work your ass off for years only to be told to hit the road for one unsupportable reason or another. In this case, the reason is behavior surrounding race identity, but if it hadn’t been that for Chris, I feel like it would have been something else.
Re: “I think it’s very interesting that his replacement is eager to be on the committee, because he thinks he will change the system from within.” Do we think Mosaic Johnson is a stand-in for Mat Johnson, perhaps how he used to be?
As for the “Jew listening to Wagner” line, that’s a really interesting moment. Is it meant to imply that the dean is a hypocrite, criticizing Chris for not being true to his race while secretly betraying his own? Or is Johnson poking fun at the very notion of betraying one’s race? What does that even mean? Because Chris is black, he has to be all-consumed by issues of diversity? Because the dean is a Jew, he has to limit himself to the enjoyment of Jewish art only, as if he’s somehow condoning Wagner’s anti-Semitism by listening to his music? What do you think?
Laura says:
I guess it’s always different for outsiders looking in, but I would wager most people in America view academia as “cushy” and certainly not “brutal,” though there may be different reasons for that. Many people seem to think that reading and writing is easy, that we can all do it, so tenure is therefore easily obtainable; I would disagree, but it certainly does seem that once you are allowed on the tenure track at all, it is easier to obtain than screw up, since most people these days aren’t even offered that lick of the brass ring (most of my teaching friends are only adjuncts, and probably will stay that way, given budget cuts). I suppose it may also depend on your institution and its particular politics, as well as the overall competitiveness for jobs (in English, there are definitely far more applicants than positions, for example).
Since I haven’t gotten too far into the book yet, I have no idea if Mosaic comes back later on, and don’t know anything about Mat Johnson personally to comment on his character as a stand-in.
The “Jew listening to Wagner” made me think of that Sarah Silverman song where she sings about “Jewish people driving German cars,” and wonders why anyone would do that, as if driving a German car implies that all Germans are Nazis, and that supporting German automotive engineering is the same as supporting German social engineering and genocide. Pretty preposterous, but I could see why someone Jewish might still avoid German cars on principal. After all, IBM designed the punch cards that sent the Jews to the gas chambers… would you want to buy one of their computers? Seems a similar (though perhaps slippery slope) argument.
As far as Wagner specifically, once you’ve been to university you will probably always view him as definitively linked with Naziism, to the point where anyone listening to his music must be making a racial statement. The dean even switches the music when Chris enters the room, so he’s aware of the music’s baggage. But why is he listening to it to begin with, alone in his office? Probably because he LIKES it. Maybe he was watching Apocalypse Now! But it’s interesting to ponder what Chris meant by it… are our choices in media reflective of our views on life? Does our hidden racism sneak out when we listen to Wagner? If we are fully ethical human beings, must we shun Wagner? For that matter, why not pick a more contemporary musician to reflect this dilemma? Does listening to someone like Miles Davis, a known wife-beater, make you the type of person who endorses wife-beating? Hardly. Yet Nietzsche’s idea of separating the man from the music can be difficult. Some people can’t listen to Miles Davis because they think of the man, and his actions, and can’t help by associate his music with his life. I think that’s an interesting question: can you overlook human failure if great art has been produced as a result?
Justine Tal Goldberg says:
That is an interesting question, for sure. I wonder if there’s any application of this issue to Garth’s obsession with Thomas Karvel. He’s a fictitious character as far as I can tell and, at least as far as I’ve read, he hasn’t yet appeared–if he’ll appear at all. Johnson has definitely touched upon the issue with Chris’s distain for Garth’s interest in the painter, a disdain which seems to arise from his belief that the paintings represent whiteness. Let’s pick up this discussion in Volumes III and IV. I think we’re onto something here!
Jenna says:
Karvel is based on Thomas Kincaid, the self-coined “Painter of Light.” Check out his bio on Wikipedia…it’ll make Garth’s obsession seem quirkier.
Laura says:
Oh yeah! Kinkade does those terrible oil paintings with even worse ads, usually found in old-lady and/or craft magazines. He does a lot of what I guess I’d term pop art, in an impressionistic style. He’s got a Gone With The Wind painting on his website: http://www.thomaskinkade.com
Justine Tal Goldberg says:
Oh, how funny. Thanks for making that connection, Jenna. This explains a lot.
Pym, Volume #4 « « WriteByNight │ write better, right now │ writing center and writers service in Austin, Texas WriteByNight │ write better, right now │ writing center and writers service in Austin, Texas says:
[...] you’re just now joining us, don’t forget to check out our discussions of Volume I, Volume II, and Volume III. Note: Our Volume III post is feeling seriously neglected, so if the [...]